His hands tied behind his back and his body bruised and beaten, Giso knelt on the dewy ground, fearing the worst. The shout of the angry police officer still rang in his ears, “I will shoot you now, so say your last prayer to God!”
As Giso had grown to be a young man, he, like so many young men in our villages, got tangled up in drugs, alcohol and crime. He married a woman as much of a criminal as he was. She was from the PNG highlands, a place known for marijuana production and sales.
A close contact in that region began sending her large quantities of drugs for Giso to sell to pay for her children’s school fees and anything else they needed. Money seemed unlimited to Giso. It was not uncommon for him to sell over $4,000 worth of drugs in a day. With that money, Giso bought beer and cigarettes and sold them without a license for twice the price at a logging camp.
Giso’s criminal activity made him somewhat popular among many, but it also created numerous problems for the community. Drunkards beat their wives and children, fought each other, and went around the village with their long, sharp machetes, slashing water tanks or other valuables. It did not take long for the local village leaders to figure out the source of the problem. They decided to call the police to come and arrest Giso. He became a marked man.
One day, Giso was on his way to sell drugs. Despite the intense tropical heat, he wore a big, heavy jacket to hide all the money and drugs he carried. Walking around a corner in the road, he saw a car full of local police officers driving toward him. One of the village leaders was riding with them. As soon as he spotted Giso, he said, “That is the man spoiling this place! The people here, their lives are being destroyed by this man! You need to arrest him.”
The police car braked sharply. The officers jumped out, grabbed Giso, and searched him without questioning him. One, trying to assert his authority and intimidate Giso, punched him in the face. Apparently, Giso was not completely in his right mind from the effects of drugs and declared, “You better not hit me again. You have not checked me to see if I have anything illegal. If you punch me again, I will make you pay me 20 Kina (about $5.00 USD).”
Infuriated, the officer punched him three more times. Giso yelled, “You owe 60 Kina now! If you don’t have the money, take off your hat, and I will punch you back three times. You have not proven that I have done anything wrong. Come on! Take off your hat, and I will fight you!”
One of the other officers, apparently influenced by Giso’s confidence, intervened, saying, “Maybe we have the wrong guy. Release him and let’s go.” The officers got back in their car and started down the road.
Giso was so mad that he yelled, “You punched me for no reason! You owe me 60 Kina! Hurry up and give it to me!”
One of the officers retorted, “Keep going, or we will shoot you.” Giso decided that was good advice and ran into the surrounding jungle, where he would hide for the next week.
As the officers continued driving, they asked the village leader, “Do you know who that guy is?”
“Yes! He is the guy causing so much trouble in our village!”
“No, no, he’s an innocent man,” the officers replied. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Did you search him?” asked the elder.
“No, we didn’t,” came the reply. “He said he was innocent.” As the officers lamely excused themselves, they realized they had made a mistake. So, for the next week, whenever they saw a young Rasta-looking guy, they would beat and arrest him.
One week later, Giso emerged from his jungle hiding place. Happy to be home, he was still nervous about his run-in with the police. Not wanting to take any chances, he hid all his drugs and money in his banana garden. No one will find them there, he thought.
That night, Giso stretched out on his sleeping mat and drifted off to sleep to the rhythm of croaking frogs, only to be jolted awake by the sound of someone smashing his door in. Before he knew it, he saw three guns pointed in his face and heard a bold warning. “We have surrounded your house. You will not escape this time. You are now in police custody.”
Looking up to see who was speaking to him, a shiver ran down Giso’s spine. It was the one police officer everyone feared most. He had been shot during the Bougainville war and returned with a permanently recognizable facial scar. Coupling this with a notorious reputation for intense cruelty, anytime he showed up in town or at the market, villagers ran. Rumors traveled quickly. People claimed he did not think twice about killing people. And now, the man everybody feared the most was staring down at Giso.
In mere seconds, Giso was jerked out of bed, handcuffed and blindfolded, then half-dragged and half-carried out of the house toward the police vehicle. Outside, several officers were chanting, “Beat him! Beat him!” Determined that the man blamed for disturbing community peace would learn a powerful lesson, blow after blow rained down on him. Fists, sticks, the butts of guns, belts—they hit him with anything they could get their hands on. The beating lasted all the way to the car. Giso was unable to protect himself in any way, and his suffering was intense.
Officers threw Giso into the back of the vehicle, tossed a large spare tire on top of him and piled on, sitting down. Giso felt like he was going to pass out from all the pain; he could hardly breathe under the extra weight. He started crying out for his mother and father, but then realized there was nothing they could do. He felt alone.
Then he remembered something his mother had told him as a boy. “If you ever have a hard time in school or anywhere else, call on Jesus. He will help you.” Crushed under all that weight, he called out, “Jesus, save my life! Don’t let me die! Please keep me safe underneath this tire and don’t let me die.”
He felt the truck come to a stop and the weight of the men and the tire being removed. Somehow, he had survived the trip, but what would happen next? He was tugged out of the truck and dragged across the ground for a short distance, then forced into a kneeling position.
He felt a hostile presence close by and wondered what awaited. Then came the angry shouts of the notorious man with battle scars on his face. “You think you are big and powerful. You think you are a hero. Well, you’re not! I am the hero! I won the fight in Bougainville, and I am a hero! You are just a rascal trying to make a name for yourself. I am tired of people like you. I am going to shoot you now, so say your last prayer to God.”
Realizing that this was it and he was going to die, Giso took the war vet’s advice and prayed loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Lord, I am about to die. I did not do any big wrong, and now I am about to die. I did not break any of the ten commandments You gave to Moses, but I am about to die. I confess to You so that my spirit may go to You. This prayer is my last. Please save me!”
He waited for the sound of the gun, but nothing came. Everything was quiet and still for longer than he expected. Then he felt his blindfold being ripped off, and he looked into the face well known as the bringer of death. “You will not go to jail, and I will not kill you. I have killed many people, and I was about to kill you, but your prayer makes me afraid of God. Your prayer has set you free.”
Giso was shocked! But he knew it must be real, as he felt his hands being released from behind and someone helping him to his feet. Handing Giso a cigarette, the war vet invited him to hop back in the truck and took him home.
This near-death experience became a major turning point for Giso. He stopped selling drugs and started living a better life. He knew God must be real. Giso started going to church, reading his Bible, and telling others about God and what He had done for him. For the next eight years, Giso witnessed to the young boys in the logging camp, telling them the good news and to think of Jesus. He confessed that he had been a rascal just like them, and it was when he was caught and almost killed that he thought of Jesus. They should do it sooner!
This was not the last amazing answer to prayer Giso experienced. He would one day pray a prayer that would save the life of his son, bringing him back from the brink of death.
